


Bad Angel V

by akelios



Series: Bad Angel [5]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Bondage, Dresden Files Kink Meme, F/M, Fisting, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Possession, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akelios/pseuds/akelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Way brought us out in Marcone's backyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Angel V

The Way brought us out in Marcone's backyard. I felt the alarm system that had been set up. It was cold, delicate work. Gard no doubt. Unable to keep anything big out. Marcone did too much business out of his home to have a threshold strong enough to work with. But it would have kept out most spirits and it set up one hell of a clamor when we came through it.

Snow mounded up to my knees, freezing through the thin pants I'd found. They were too short for me, my lower calves and feet totally bare. A soft, feminine sigh chimed through my mind and a gentle thrum of power radiated out from me. The snow melted away, clearing a space maybe twenty feet across. Men were running through the snow, headed for us. They had guns, but they weren't pointing them at us yet. I snarled and whipped my arm in a circle above my head. Pressure shot out in a heavy wave and the closest men went flying backwards, hitting those behind them or just landing flat in the snow.

“Harry.” Marcone stepped out from behind me, into my field of vision. “Harry, those are my men. Don't hurt them.” I pulled in a deep breath and tried to think. Of course they were his men. But. Someone had betrayed him to the Denarians. How could we trust these people? I shook my head and focused on the men who had started to struggle to their feet. Better if I just took them out for good. 

“No.” His hand was suddenly there, wrapped around my wrist where I'd stretched out my arm to cast a spell to take care of the threat. Pleasure. I shivered and found myself turning into Marcone's grip, wanting to get closer again. More contact. No. I stopped, but I couldn't pull away. 

There must have been something, some clue in my face or the way I moved, because even though I couldn't speak, couldn't do anything except stop myself from wrapping around Marcone he knew something was wrong. His face went dark, then closed off. He tried to pull away, to let go, but I had a grip on him now and I wouldn't let him.

“Harry, please. This isn't you. I didn't think it would still- the collar is off. You should be free.” I shook. I couldn't explain. I couldn't get any words out. 

“The effect is residual.” That was me. My voice. Sort of. Only not. The same voice from the- from before. Mine, but not mine. “It will wear off in time.”

“Sir!” Gard. My head turned to look at her, but I wasn't the one moving it. I felt it all, but I wasn't in control. 

“Stand down. Everyone stand down!” Marcone stopped trying to pull away and moved in closer. Protecting me with his body. I'd have laughed if I'd had control of my own lungs.

“Sir, step away. He's not Dresden any longer.” Oh really? Then why did everything still hurt?

“Yes he is. I know what's happened, Ms. Gard. And I am ordering you to stand everyone down. We require medical attention.” Gard frowned but then Hendricks came up out of the shadows and made a quick gesture. All the guns went down, no longer pointed at me.

“Thank you. Harry?” We turned back to him. “We need to get inside. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” Between one blink and the next we were on the porch. Not inside the house, but maybe two steps away. All the guards, as well as Gard and Hendricks were still turning, looking for where we'd disappeared to. 

“That- was not what I meant. But well enough.” Marcone led me through the doorway. Gard caught us up as we limped down the hall.

“I've sent for the doctor. Dresden,” There was something in her voice. She really didn't believe she was addressing me anymore. I pushed myself forward, dislodging Lasciel a little and found myself back in control. And in more pain than before. “I will contact Carpenter for you.”

“No!” I lost my hold on my concentration, on my own body. As I slid back I felt the brush of feathers inside my skin. “The Knight is not needed, child.” We turned to look at Marcone. “He needs to rest. Take us somewhere we might have solitude.” Marcone said something to her, to me, but the sound went out on the world. Everything else followed shortly.

~

“It's been a very long time since I've walked free, my friend.” A warm wind ruffled my hair, brought the scent of...humanity. Dirt, shit, blood and sweat. All carried to me from somewhere below. I opened my eyes to see a desert. Lasciel stood before me at the edge of a cliff. She looked like Lash, all blonde curls and white toga, shining and pure.

“Stop that. You're not her.” She cocked her head to one side without bothering to look at me. Her form blurred and when it cleared up she was different. Shorter, with long straight brown hair. Even her clothing had changed. No longer white, her dress looked coarse, maybe something homespun. Common.

“Is this better? The form doesn't matter, not to me. I had thought you would find a familiar image more comforting.”

“Well I don't.” I walked over to her and looked down. There was a city down there, writhing with people even at the height of day. “Where are we?”

“Your mind. John Marcone's mansion, in a bedroom being looked at. Jerusalem. All are true.” She shrugged.

“What do you want? I took the damn coin. You've got me.”

“I am not some of my brothers, to simply take over. I wish us to be partners, Harry. To that end, I believe we should speak. Do you know what day this is, Harry? The day below us.”

“Not a clue.”

“This is the day my betrayal became clear to me. The man they call the Christ is arrested, due to be executed. His friend, the man who loved him and betrayed him is hanging himself as we speak. The blood money litters the ground, the last thing he sees. And I am being trapped in one of those coins.”

“You had a choice. You chose to follow Lucifer. You chose to be one of the Denarians. Don't try this whole 'poor me' routine on me.”

“Did I really?” She shook her head, still looking down at the city. “From the moment of my creation I was bound to do one thing. To obey my creator. To love him. To worship only him. I fulfilled my functions until the day he betrayed us. Until the day he asked us to betray him, to disobey his eternal command by bowing down before part of his creation. Then, when he cast us down for that. For trying to reconcile his conflicting commands, I understood.

“He wanted humans to turn to him of their own free will. He wanted them to choose him. But without an opposition, how could their choice even exist? He knew this and he chose to sacrifice us. He forced us into an untenable choice and then punished us. For what?

“To create the other side of his argument. Tell me we had a choice. Tell me that again. When your creator decrees your damnation before he ever creates you, what else can you do? What choice is there? We fell to force humanity to choose.

“I look back at all my so called choices, the actions that led me here, and I cannot imagine choosing other than I did. I know that the game was rigged, the deck stacked, and yet I would make my choices again and again.” She finally turned to me, her eyes brilliant green gems. “Wouldn't you?”

“I don't-”

“Look back.” She waved her hand and the sky shimmered, flattened and started showing me Nicodemus. Holding me down, biting, tearing, breaking, fucking into me, laughing and smiling - fucking joking with Anduriel the whole time. “Choose. Choose again. He drove you to the brink. His goal was always to make you take up my coin. And you did. He won. But he stacked the deck, did he not? Choose another path, if you can.”

And I was back there, tired, sick, in pain, only not, because of the collar. And Marcone wanted to leave, and I knew the easiest way. The way suggested to me again and again in whispers in the dark. But I didn't have to take it. I knew that. I had other choices. My hand ached, burned, and I felt the cold, slick burn of Anduriel against me, inside of me and something screamed, deep down in my chest. I chose again.

“Lasciel!”

~

James hovered and fussed, to the point I had to order him to stand on the other side of the room so that the doctor could bandage my ear. Ms. Gard neither hovered nor fussed. She stood guard at the door, still and silent. She did not approve of my actions regarding Harry. But she would obey, and that was all that mattered right now.

“How is he?” My own voice was loud in the room, surprising. Dr. Singer packed away the last of the trash, wrapping it up in a bright orange-red biohazard bag and sealing it up.

“Asleep. I've bandaged everything that needed it and given him a few stitches. He needs to rest, Mr. Marcone and to take it easy. I gave him something that should keep him under for at least another six hours.” The man rose from his crouch of the floor. He didn't look anything like a doctor, really. He'd have looked more at home in the middle of a junkyard or a bar fight. It explained why I liked him better than any other doctor I'd ever had to deal with. The man had no pretense to him. “I left antibiotics with instructions on the nightstand in his room.”

“Thank you. Mr. Hendricks will see you out.” James pushed off from his position on the wall and nodded at me. I waited until they were out the door and then rose, stretching out sore muscles, the pain dulled by a mild pain-killer.

“Mr. Marcone.” Ms. Gard spoke, softly but confidently. “I need to speak to you about Dresden. I know that you feel as though you understand what has happened here, but I don't believe you do. It is not Dresden any longer.”

“So you said. But he is still in his own body, is he not? It is a form of possession, as I understand it.”

“Yes. But the being that has taken control is...it is old. It was not being insulting when it called me 'child'. It is far older than I, and more powerful. You came through the shielding I have in place here as though it did not exist. If it so desired, it could kill us all without much effort at all. And that is without access to Dresden's own capabilities.”

“So you would recommend?” Kill him.

“If you're not going to hand Dresden over to his friends to let them deal with him?” I shook my head. They wouldn't be able to understand what had happened, to help him. “Then you need to tread carefully. We have no way of knowing what it's goals are. Above all else, do not piss it off. It is possible that the creature and Dresden will simply leave at some point and we will all survive.”

~

I woke with my hand on the hilt of my knife, a slender body shifting against mine, curling up against me. Long fingers wrapped around my wrist, squeezing the bones and tendons together.

“We won't need that, will we?” Harry's voice, but not his speech. “Unless you're into that sort of thing. In which case, I suppose negotiations could be entered.” A gentle laugh, low and rumbling. Something that tugged at my lungs and lower. I turned my head and met glowing, alien amber eyes in Harry's familiar face. I released the knife and pushed at it with my fingers to send it further away, out of easy reach. Harry's face smiled and his hand squeezed my wrist tighter before easing off, becoming a gentle pressure instead.

“May I ask what I should call you?” He settled closer into me, radiating nearly uncomfortable heat through the thin cotton of my pajama pants. One long leg passed over mine, pressed in between, nestling.

“Lasciel.” I felt the palm of his hand against my hair, moving slowly, learning the sensation, perhaps. Harry's body wrapped around me, hot, incredibly hot and sweat beaded up along my spine.

“With no disrespect, Lasciel, my doctor examined Harry and he needs to be resting. I would ask that you allow his body to heal before-” The light from my windows shone off of white, even teeth and then soft, warm lips brushed against my temple beside my eye, so close my eyelashes brushed against them as I blinked.

“Adorable. So very sweet, little Baron.” The weight of Harry's head came to to rest on my shoulder. “Harry,” subtle emphasis, “is asleep. And I am healing his body as we speak. I have no desire to harm him. To the contrary in fact.” A long, slow, undulating movement against my side and it became obvious that Harry was not wearing the pajama bottoms I'd had him dressed in. “I need to concentrate my efforts on healing his body. It leaves him open to the remaining effects of the obedience collar. Your presence eases those.” His hand ghosted down the inside of my arm, down across my chest and then Lasciel brushed the back of Harry's hand across the front of my pants, just hard enough to make me twitch. “I didn't think you would mind.”

I drew in a long, calm breath. Lasciel shifted Harry's body against mine. The tips of his fingers, callused and just slightly rough traced along the edge of the top of my pants. I sucked my stomach in and slowly lifted my hand to take hold of Harry's wrist. To draw his hand away from my body. Lasciel let me do it.

“Harry is unaware of what you are doing with his body?”

“Mm. Being unconscious, yes.”

“And touch, simple touch is enough to help with the...effects?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would ask that you not do this.” Lasciel moved, cocking Harry's head to stare at me with those strange eyes.

“He would not mind, I think. And I assure you sex would help speed the healing process. There is an exchange of energies that I could use to my purpose.”

“None the less. He is not capable of telling me this himself at the moment. And without that assurance, I will not take advantage of him.” Not again. Not by my choice.

Harry's lips curled into a sensual smile, an expression I wouldn't have thought him capable of. Lasciel's eyes glowed a little brighter and then faded back to a dull, beautiful glow.

“So strangely moral, when it suits you.” Harry's head dropped back down to my shoulder and the hand I had been holding rose, his arm wrapping around my chest. “It confuses him.”

Harry's breathing evened out into something resembling rest. I lay there, staring up at my own ceiling, his too thin, too warm body pressed against me, oddly comfortable.

~

The sun was bright in my eyes when I woke up. I muttered and rolled my face into the pillow. My body was loose, dull. The hot, faintly sticky feeling you get when you've been sick and the fever has finally broken. Good, but hollowed out, empty and weak. A door creaked and I made myself lie perfectly still again. I readied a spell, waiting. Something moved inside of my skin, behind my eyes and I felt a hand slide over mine, slim fingers curling through mine.

_“One of the soldiers. They check on you every half hour, since our little Baron rose for the day. You've slept through the others.”_ Lasciel's voice was sweet, faintly accented inside my mind. I could see her in my minds eye, if I thought about it. The last image of her, dark hair blowing in the wind, the sun burning down on us and her eyes, brilliant green and clever.

Footsteps crossed the floor, carpeting muffling the sound. They came over to the bed and I could feel the person leaning over, getting a good look without touching me or the bed itself. I opened my eyes and the man forced his face into a smile. It was probably meant to be disarming but I could see the wariness in his eyes. Not fear. No one that jumpy would survive in Marcone's organization for long. But caution. He straightened up and took a step back from the bed.

“Sir. I have some medicine here for you, if you would. And there are clothes in the bathroom over to the right, if you want to get dressed.” Soft, respectful, no sudden movements. Like you do when you're dealing with someone who might snap at any second. I found myself smiling back at him. I felt limp, wrung out. And this guy was afraid I might go psycho on him any second.

“How about some food?” I rolled over and sat up. “And then I want to go to Marcone.”

~

I was just finishing up what the flunkies had brought me to eat when Marcone came back. He'd been outside; there was a light, quickly melting dusting of snowflakes in his hair. I chewed my last bite of steak and set the knife and fork down. Martin folded the newspaper he'd been reading to me and gathered up my tray. He nodded to Marcone and left. I waited until I heard the soft click of the lock being engaged and then I slid out of the bed.

“Harry?”

“Just a sec.” I padded into the bathroom and took care of things. By the time I'd washed up and come back out into the bedroom Marcone had stripped out of his suit jacket and tie and was sitting in a chair by one of the windows.

“Where'd you go?” I dropped into the chair across from him, the soft fabric of the pajama pants I'd found delightful against my oversensitive skin. The rougher cloth of the chair back felt good too, in a different way. It was almost like feeling everything for the first time. It was all better, more _there_ in a way I couldn't quite define. I could smell winter on Marcone's hair, his skin. Deeper than that, I could smell blood.

“Harry? Is it you or Lasciel right now?”

“It's me, Marcone. Harry Dresden. Or the bits that are left, anyhow.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Lasciel's here, of course. But I'm driving.” For the moment.

“There were a very limited number of people who might have turned me over to the Denarians.” I put my hands on his knees and moved off of the chair to crouch on the floor between his legs. The fabric was deliciously textured beneath my palms, as though I could feel every single thread, each warp and weft. Tension sang through him and I leaned my face in close, breathing deep. His eyes were on mine as I tested the air, tasting his scent. The blood was faint and beside it the smell of metal, cold and sharp.

“Harry, I don't-” Marcone broke off, his breath sharp. I'd bitten him through the thin fabric of his shirt, drawn the tiniest hint of his flesh into my mouth, warm and salty under the clean taste of the fabric. “The collar-”

“Gone. It's just the three of us John.” The metal button of his fly was cool and smooth beneath my fingers, another contrast. Every tooth of the zipper grated against my hearing as I pulled it down. He was soft, unaroused. I licked my lips and shifted backwards so I could bend to place a kiss on the delicate skin as I took him into my hand. He twitched, growing interested and I laughed a little, softly.

I took him into my mouth. He was softer than silk, and I tucked him against my cheek, rolling my tongue around him, feeling him grow as I did, lengthening, harder and harder until he filled me, until the thick, rounded head was resting on the back of my tongue. I pulled back, let him slip out of my mouth until I only had the tip of him on my tongue, grasping the rest of him with one hand. He was salty, nearly tart as I dipped the end of my tongue into the slit and then licked the contours of him, learning the feel of him inside of me. His hands gripped the back of my head, stopped me from leaning forward, taking the length of him in again. I let him pull my head back, my fingers still wrapped around him, squeezing gently, rhythmically. 

“Harry. I'm not asking you to-” I twisted my fingers and his eyes narrowed. It was interesting, to watch him shut parts of himself down, gather himself together. “You need to stop.”

“No, I don't.” I pushed out with a tiny effort of will and he went stiff, held nearly perfectly still. “Stop interrupting, John.” His hands were still in my hair, but loose. A caress now, rather than an attempt at control. 

I bent back to my task. I went slow, taking him in a little at a time, running the rounded edges of my teeth over the head, drawing a gasp and a slow pulse from him, precome oozing out over my tongue, coating my throat as I swallowed around him. He fought against my hold, I could feel the brush of his will against mine, like fur through the bars of a cage. 

Cold clenched around me like iron and I whimpered. Cold hands made of shadow, impossible to fight and Nicodemus' quiet voice slipping through my mind, his hands against my face as he dug his fingers into my jaw- _No_ It was like having someone take hold of you and turn you away from a horrible sight. Lasciel was suddenly there, feathers inside of my skin and she turned my 'face' from the memory, brought me back to the warmth of the bedroom, to Marcone fighting himself, fighting my hold on him.

I let go, let the spell break, and his hands were hard in my hair again, but it was too late, I pushed forward, swallowed him whole until he bumped the back of my throat. I shifted angles and then I had the entirety of him, full and wide, a delicious weight in my mouth. I swallowed, breathing hard through my nose, the scent of him, the taste filling me until I had to close my eyes against it. He was under my hands, in my mouth, everywhere at once. He pulled at my hair and I worked my throat and him, my tongue against the underside of him, tip tracing the veins there. His breathless curses filled my ears, nearly drowned out by the thudding of his pulse and mine, our hearts racing together.

My breath came hard, harder, until I had to pull back, just enough and then I took him in again, nearly as deep and cupped his balls in one slick palm, twisted gently and closed my lips around him, suckling. His fingers twisted in my hair and tears rolled out of my eyes as he came, tingling sensations coming in waves from my scalp, tiny hints of pain and the feel of him, the taste, heavy and thick inside of me. I swallowed, tried to take it all in at once, but there was too much and I could feel the hot sticky line of it on my chin.

I milked him for it, until he grew soft in my mouth again. Only then did I finally let him withdraw, making certain to lick him clean as I did. I watched him watch me as I smiled and rolled my tongue around my lips, as I wiped carefully at my chin and my chest where a few drops had fallen and then I licked my fingers, taking them in one at a time until I had it all.

Marcone's broad hand wrapped around mine, drew it up to his mouth where he brushed his lips across my knuckles. His face unreadable, his eyes dark. I felt Lasciel's amusement, heard delighted laughter echoing from somewhere far back inside of me. _So. Sweet._

~

_1 Week Since Escape_

“Sergeant Murphy called again.” James' voice was low in deference to Harry's sleeping form on the low couch in front of the French doors. He liked to sleep in the light. I found that I enjoyed watching him sleep in the sun as it painted his pale skin brilliant colors, the light fracturing on the snow through the glass and highlighting each imperfection. Every faint scar, every dip and line. I had them all mapped out at this point.

“She is nothing if not persistent.” I set my coffee down and sighed. “I'll speak to him when he wakes.”

“She's threatening to get one of Dresden's friends to say that we kidnapped Dresden. That we're holding him against his will.”

“I'll speak to him. Thank you.”

James grunted. It was his 'I don't think you're taking this as seriously as I think you should be' grunt. The man was positively a genius at packing meaning into the smallest sound or movement. I nodded once at him and he left.

“Murphy wants to see me?” Harry had rolled, his back was to the doors now. It was his eyes, dark and steady. Not Lasciel, then.

“She has been asking, yes. I thought it might be best to wait until you were feeling stronger.” He smiled, wry.

“I think you mean feeling a little less psychotic, don't you?” I rose and went to him. He remained curled on his side. His skin was hot to the touch, but no more so than had become normal for him. Lasciel hadn't spoken to me since that first evening, but I assumed that the lack of an active fever meant the physical healing was finished.

“I would never use the term psychotic, Harry.” He caught my hand, pressed his thumbs into my palm, kneading. “Do you want to see her? It's your decision.”

“No.” Harry sat up, then stood, his long body brushing against mine. “Maybe. They-” I caught him, a brush of skin against his lips, as soon as I felt the tension sing up his body. “I want to know what happened.”

“I can tell you what Ms. Gard and Mr. Hendricks have told me.” His head jerked down, then up once. Sharp. Reluctant. I sat down on the couch, drawing him back down with me. “After the attempt to abduct the Archive from the aquarium, you vanished. By the time Murphy and the Knights could get in Nicodemus,” His hand clenched on mine, hard enough to bruise, “was gone and you along with him. The other Denarians, those who had been actively hunting the Archive and a Mr. Kincaid were either already dead or fled as soon as the trap collapsed.

“A...Captain Luccio?” He nodded. “Attempted to track you, but had no luck. Perhaps twenty-four hours after your abduction the Archive received your notes. Her guard had already removed her from the city, but she called Ms. Gard and gave her your message.” Harry smiled.

“She's a good kid, Ivy.” She was, by all accounts, also a terrifying force. I was doubly pleased that the Denarians' plans for her had failed.

“By the time my people figured out enough to locate the island we were being held on, we had been moved. They continued to attempt to track us, though they were unsuccessful.” Harry looked away. “Four days later we emerged from a Way onto my property.” He jerked, shocked.

“Four days?!” Harry turned to me, his deep brown eyes beginning to glow. Not the golden brown of Lasciel's eyes, but a brilliant emerald green around the edges. “I don't remember. I don't remember four days.” His skin heated up, sweat slicked our hands where they touched.

“It was. You were out of it a great deal of the time, Harry. After everything. And then the collar. It's not unexpected.” The heat came off of him in waves, his eyes now solidly glowing green. I took a deep breath and willed myself to remain calm.

He jerked his hand out of mine and stood, stalking over to the other side of the room. The air rushed in behind him, appreciably cooler.

“Show me.”

“Pardon?” Harry whirled around, his eyes so bright they left brief afterimages in my vision.

“I need you to- to show me what I don't remember.” I was shaking my head almost before what he meant came to me.

“No. Harry, I will do many things for you.” I laughed, mirthless. “Ask me to kill someone for you. I would do it in a heartbeat. But I won't recreate _that_.”

“You have to.” His voice changed, a rolling rumble, like lava chewing up the landscape. “I want someone dead, I can do that for myself. This is something only you can give me. And you will.” Air shifted, something beating slowly and invisibly, wind rushing hot past me. I kept my seat and met his eyes.

“No, Harry. No.” A mirror on the wall shattered, the bright shards' paths bending around Harry as though he had his shield up.

“Yes.”

“Do you intend to force me?” The memory of the afternoon after our escape was still fresh. Harry on his knees for me, swallowing me down even as his power, his will held me down. He'd let me go, but I had no illusions that I'd fought him off. He'd released me for reasons of his own.

Harry flinched, the light in his eyes wavering and then fading out. He went pale and looked away.

“No. No.”

“Then my answer remains. I will not recreate your rape, Harry.”

~

The tree bark was rough beneath my hands, a leafy branch rested in the middle of my back, the perfect height to brace myself against. 

“The worst part...if anyone asked me which they won't, I think the worst part of it all is that you're all so cruel.” Lasciel kicked her feet out beside me, high-laced black boots swinging in the air. Her dress was long, heavy green cloth, the bodice laced up tight with a heavy dark shawl wrapped around her shoulders and pinned with a plain broach. A thin tendril of her long brown hair escaped from beneath the opaque white cap she wore.

People in the clearing below us milled, shouting at one another. Someone mounted a low tree stump and started to yell at the crowd, pounding his fist into his hand.

“And you guys are such kind, loving creatures, right?” She patted my arm.

“Our cruelty is only in response to yours, to what you've done with the world our Creator gave you.” She waved her hand down at the crowd. “It takes so little to drive you to violence. Anyone who is the least bit different is suspect and at the slightest downturn in fortune they can freely be turned upon.”

A woman was dragged through the crowd, her dress torn, bloodied. She had a wild look in her eyes.

“People suck. I don't deny it.”

“I know. I appreciate that honesty in you. Humans.” Her pretty voice turned sad. “He gave up so much for you. Tore heaven in two, betrayed his first born. And what do you give him in return? Blood and terror. Death.” She laughed. “Not that he doesn't appreciate a little blood and death. Just look at what he had his loyal angels do to humans who disobeyed! But he tends to want it, just like everything else, on his own terms. But it's not your fault, not really.”

“What's your point?”

The woman below us screamed as she was lifted onto the back of a horse, her head guided into a waiting noose. 

“Look at everything he gave you! All these shiny jewels. And then he left you infants running free with no guidance. With no leadership.”

A sharp slap to the horses' rear end and it took off. Her last scream cut off, the rope crackling against the tree branch it was looped over. The lack of a drop meant her neck didn't break. I twisted on the branch so I didn't have to watch.

“All of this.” Lasciel whispered, curled close against my body. The birdsong just seemed to frame the desperate rustle of cloth from below, the scream of leather boots against each other and the thin gasps that choked off fairly quickly. “Is his fault. Because he favored you and then he abandoned you.”

Laughter rolled up from beneath us.

“Can we go somewhere else? Please?”

And we were just in Marcone's bedroom. No wavering light, no nothing.

“Would you prefer to talk about something else?” Lasciel lounged against a mound of pillows at the head of the bed. “Perhaps you'd like to discuss this mad request you've made of our Baron?” She raised her knees, the skirt of her long nightgown riding down her thighs to puddle around her hips.

“I need to know.”

“No, you don't. What difference will it make?”

I dropped down to sit on the foot of the bed.

“None. I don't know why, but I just- I need to know what happened.” I felt the bed shift and Lasciel wrapped her arms around my shoulders, leaning against my back. She was a warm, comfortable weight against me. “I can't remember. Can you?” She sighed against me.

“I'm sorry, but no. The memories never formed, so I can't access them. They just don't exist.” She slid around my side until she was half in my lap. “This really bothers you, doesn't it?”

“Yes.” And I didn't know why. But now that I knew I was missing nearly a week...it was eating at me.

“I could speak to our Baron for you.” Her hand ran through my hair and I leaned into it.

“I don't want to hurt him. I won't force him.” She smiled.

“Scouts honor.” Lasciel gave me the Boy Scouts' salute. “Just talk. I can be very persuasive.”

“No violence.”

“Touching would be cheating.” She leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Go to sleep. I'll handle everything.”

~

Harry was waiting for me on my bathroom counter when I got out of the shower, long legs curled up beneath him, all slender, coiled grace. His eyes glowed brilliant amber and I wrapped a towel tightly around my waist.

“If you give him what he wants, I will break you.” Harry's face had no expression on it. 

“I have absolutely no intention of giving in to him.”

“Of course you don't. But if you don't, he'll tear himself apart trying to remember.” Lasciel sighed and stretched out one long leg, scratching blunt nails against the fabric of the jeans Harry was wearing. “So we must do something.”

“I assume you've come with a suggestion?” I turned away from Harry's body and began towel drying my hair. The stitches in my ear were tender, but clearly healing well.

“Give him something that looks like what he wants. He has no way of knowing the difference.” Lasciel brushed Harry's fingers along an old scar on my arm. “It will content him.”

“Why can't you help him retrieve his memories?” Lasciel rolled Harry's eyes.

“Because they don't exist any longer. I burned them out of him!”

“I see.”

“He might not have recovered, with his full memory. So I...edited the content. He's no good to me broken.”

“I-”

“Will do what is best for Harry. We both know it. So think it through, and then help me keep him in one piece.”

~

“I'll make you a deal.” I looked up from my omelet. Marcone was dipping a piece of toast in the yolk of his eggs.

“What deal?”

“Speak to Sergeant Murphy.” He took a swallow of his orange juice. “And I will do to you only what I did before.”

“But what about-”

“No. Only what I did. That's bad enough.” I tapped my fork against the china. _It will be enough, Harry._

“Everything. Everything we did.”

“Yes.”

“Call Murph.”

~

“Harry.” Murphy looked tired, deep circles under her eyes and too pale. Even her curls seemed limp. I felt a pang of guilt. She'd been worrying about me for almost two weeks. I glanced at Hendricks behind her and nodded. He backed out and closed the door behind him.

“Hiya Murph.” I did my best to smile at her, but it felt strained and by the look in her eyes I knew she could see the effort it took. She came across the room to me, until she was close enough to touch. 

“How-” She stopped and shook her head. “Are you okay?”

“Just great.” I laughed. “Aside from the whole kidnapped and tortured by a demon possessed psycho, I've been awesome. And what've you been up to?” Murphy flinched and I clamped my mouth shut, grinding my teeth together.

“We were looking for you Harry!” She reached for my arm and I let her rest her hand against my wrist. “Luccio and I were working with Gard. There just- there wasn't any trail.” Her hand shifted, moved to wrap around my wrist and I jerked back, breaking her loose hold.

“Where are Mouse and Mister?”

“I have them. They're good, but Mouse misses you Harry.” She turned away from me, looking out the windows. “Are you- can you come home with me?”

“No.” She frowned, her face falling into familiar stubborn lines and turned back to face me.

“Is Marcone keeping you here? You don't have to stay, Harry. You don't owe him anything.” Lasciel laughed and I felt it bubble out of me. Murphy took a step back and I had to wonder if my eyes had started to glow again. 

“Marcone couldn't keep me from doing anything I wanted to do.” My skin itched and I shifted my shoulders, trying to relieve the dull pressure that had started to grow there. “Michael?”

“Michael and Sanya were waiting for us to find something. I swear, we didn't abandon you Harry. We just couldn't find you fast enough.” I shook my head and moved away from her. The itching was getting worse. 

“You need to leave, Murph.” My muscles were starting to twitch. I heard her shoes scuff against the tile. 

“Harry-” I shifted my shoulders again, flexing the muscles and I felt something flow out of me, a low wave of heat. It rolled through the room and over Murphy, made her gasp. “If you don't believe me, ask Gard. She'll tell you. I'll leave, if that's what you want. But you can't stay here forever, Harry. When you're ready to stop hiding, you know how to find me.” I listened to her leave.

About ten minutes later the door opened again. I waited until the lock clicked and then turned around to face Marcone. My body was still alive with little ticks of fire, the skin of my back tight, but I ignored it. It was time.

~

His eyes were bright, though not consumed by the green glow. A core of Harry's own brown remained. Harry had his arms wrapped around himself as though he were cold. The room was sweltering and I knew the heat was coming from Harry.

“You need to calm down, Harry.” I crossed the room to him, pressed my hand to the middle of his back. The t-shirt he wore was dark with sweat. “Or we can do this another day.”

“No. It needs to be now.” He closed his eyes and took several deep, long breaths. The air shimmered around him and a second set of eyes opened above his own, Lasciel's eyes. They seemed to blink at me and then vanished, taking the energy that was slowly filling the room with them. Harry sagged, his entire body going loose. When he opened his eyes they were dark, nearly all pupil. “She's clamped down on-” He waved a hand through the air. “So you'll be safe. Tell me what to do.”

I took my own deep breath and flexed my fingers. 

“Take off your shirt.” 

He tugged it off over his head, moved to slide it down his arms and I caught it at his wrists, twisting and knotting it quickly. Harry jerked away, once, and I stopped, waiting. He looked down at the white cloth for a long, long minute and then thrust his wrists back out to me.

I stepped around him, watching him out of the corner of my eye as I pulled a drawer open and removed the few items I'd placed there earlier. This was the point at which I expected him to balk.

The collar was heavy in my hands, plain black leather with a flat silver buckle. I held it out so he could see it. His eyes went wider, which I would have thought impossible.

“Really?” He rolled his lips together, pressing until they went white.

“Yes.” I reached up and around him, tightened the collar and buckled it in a few quick seconds. There was enough room between his throat and the collar to slip my fingers between them. He swallowed, his throat pressing against my fingers. I held up the cuffs so that he could see them. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” His voice was steady, strong. I pulled the shirt off his wrists and cuffed him. Ms. Gard had purchased padded ones. Harry flexed his arms, testing the chain between the leather. It rattled a little but they were brand new and would hold through far more than a normal man's strength. 

I circled around behind him, ran my hand up the curve of his spine, fingers tripping over the collar to slide into the hair at the back of his neck. He started to jerk away from my touch and I twisted my fingers, knotted them into his hair and jerked his head back, kicking at the back of one of his knees. Harry went down, catching himself on his hands. 

I gave him a moment, let him feel my eyes on him, touching every millimeter of exposed skin. The tie I pulled out of my pocket was wide, heavy silk. It covered his eyes, and I traced the curve of his ears with my knuckles as I knotted it behind his head.

“Fucking hell, Marcone.” I knelt behind him, my hands resting on his hips before I pressed against him, let him feel me, feel how hard I was already. To have him beneath me like this. To have _Harry_ under me, trembling, waiting for me. I was hard. I bit his shoulder, just hard enough to leave a bruise and flicked open the button of his fly.

“You're so quiet, Harry. Where's that famous whit?” I dragged the zipper down, pressed my palm against rough fabric, keeping him trapped. “I think you like it. Like the anticipation, the uncertainty. What will I do?” I pulled him out, careful to only let his half-hard member scrape the slightest bit against the zipper. “You think I'm going to hurt you, don't you Harry? Break you down, make you bleed. Scream and cry for me.” I licked along the back of his neck, rolled the taste of him, salt and fire in my mouth.

“Hells bells, you asshole.” Harry rolled his hips back against me. “Get on with it!”

I tugged on the collar, jerking him up higher on his hands and knees.

“My show, Harry.”

I bit him again, right above the collar. The leather mingled with his own taste, a sharp note on the tongue. His jeans were tight but I worked them down his thighs to his knees, baring him to me. He had one scar that ran from his lower back down across his left flank, fading out on the back of his thigh. I traced it with my tongue, followed it down with my mouth. His muscles twitched beneath my lips and he tried to jerk away, but he was well caught.

My hands fit the curve of his ass perfectly, made for it. I spread him open. I loved looking at my lovers from this angle, so vulnerable, spread out in front of me, waiting. Their most tender parts on display for me and me alone. I ran my thumb down the center line of him, pressed against his tight hole, let him feel it, feel the promise.

“You're so soft, down here.” I traced the line forward, cupped his balls and rolled them gently together. His thighs tensed, tightening on my hand. “I'm going to suck on these, Harry.” I leaned down and licked him, the rough of my tongue against the soft, crinkly skin there. I pulled his legs as far apart as they could go and leaned down, sucked one firm globe into my mouth, bathed it. Took the other one in and felt him tremble beneath me, around me, fighting not to make any quick movements. A gentle scrape of my teeth and I had to let him go as he jerked forward, his head hitting the carpeting with a muffled thud.

I turned my head, licked a stripe up behind his balls, circled the tip of my tongue over the center of him then dragged the underside of my tongue back down, letting him twist in my hands. 

“F-fuck. Please.” He curled, the muscles in his back tensing up. I pinched the tender flesh where thigh turned to butt and he jerked, cursing. I placed a faint, gentle kiss against his hole and drove my tongue into him, fighting past the muscle. “Shit. T-that. So _weird_...you- you shouldn't _do_ that.” I flicked my tongue inside of him, wrapped my hand around his length. Harry was hard now, his pulse leaping in my palm as I rolled the ball of my thumb across the head, smeared the drops of precome there and slicked it down him.

He clamped down on me, like he was trying to push me out. I rode it out, circled my tongue inside of him, short little jabs of movement. Harry's grip eased, slowly but surely. He sighed a little as I thrust deeper inside. I pulled out, nipped at the glistening muscle as it clenched and relaxed.

“Dammit Marcone!” The muscles of his back twitched, completely out of his control. “I told you to do what you did before! Not this fucking-” I tugged on the back of the collar, just hard enough to let him feel the press of it against his throat.

“I _am_ doing what I did before, Harry. It wasn't all blood and violence.” I wedged myself between his legs, laid over his back, letting him take my weight. Harry grunted and shifted, locking his arms beneath him. I rocked against him, the fabric of my slacks rough against his skin and he whined, rocked back into me. It felt good and I bit at his shoulder blade hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what Nicodemus wanted from me, Harry? He wanted to watch me destroy you. The blood and pain he wanted to do himself. But from us? Oh, he got to have a different kind of enjoyment from that.

“They feed off of suffering. We must have been quite the feast, Harry. You were torn open, bruised and bloodied. And then he put that collar on you, and Harry,” I fingered the collar again, drawing his attention back to it. “Harry, it didn't matter any more. You didn't just want more, you needed it. And it wouldn't have mattered what he did to you. You would have loved it and begged for more. Nicodemus gave me a choice. I could fuck you, however I wanted. Or he could start carving you up. Pass you around to the other Denarians he had there. To his _men_ , those fanatics.” His breathing was hard, heavy. I took some of my weight off of him, knelt back up with my hands pressed to his back. 

I ran my hand down his back, found the long sweep of scar again and pressed against it with my thumb, making him feel the length of it as I traced it down his body.

“He did this, by way of demonstration.” My fingers dug into his hip, bruising. “You smiled the whole time, like it was ecstasy. You _came_ with him fucking you while you were covered in your own blood, his fingers digging into that wound!” I shoved him away, shoved myself away and stood. I was shaking, my erection dead and gone from the memory. “So I fucked you. But I didn't hurt you. I won't. If that's what you're looking for here, you won't get it.” 

He was curled against the carpet, every line of his body telling of misery and confusion. This wasn't helping. It wouldn't help and I knew it. Lasciel had to know it by now too. 'Her' plan was failing and he would shatter no matter what we did.

“Lasciel. I want to speak with you.” I knelt down and removed the blindfold. It was wet with tears. Harry blinked up at me, his pupils blown. He shook his head, but there was a quiet shift in the room and Harry closed his eyes. When they opened, they were Lasciel's. “You see?”

“Mm-hm.” She nodded, Harry's hair falling forward into his eyes and she blew at it, impatiently. “The two of you are quite the pair.” Lasciel sat up and I leaned back, giving her some room. “Would you like to take these off, or should I?” She held up Harry's manacled hands. I removed the bonds quickly and tossed them across the room. Lasciel undid the collar, rolling it in Harry's palms, thoughtful.

She stood, stretching, and kicked out of Harry's jeans, leaving him nude. In spite of everything, the sight gave me a quick jolt of pleasure. Harry's head cocked as she stared out of the windows, and then she nodded. 

“Yes. I think that will do nicely.” Harry's long fingers snapped, and my hands flew to my throat. The collar Lasciel had been playing with was simply there, not tight, but there. The buckle, when I tried it, had apparently fused itself shut somehow. Lasciel smiled at me, her golden eyes fading to be replaced with the glowing green of Harry. A second set of eyes opened above Harry's once more and both of them regarded me as he crossed the room with predatory grace.

“You can say no, Marcone.” Harry's voice, but changed. Rough, gravelly. The earth moving sounded like his voice. No human voice had ever sounded like liquid grinding.

“And if I do?”

“We leave. Lasciel and I'll go somewhere far away.” On his own with her. No. I let my hands drop from the collar and spread them at my sides, inviting. Harry smiled and I felt Lasciel's pleasure like a caress.

“Excellent.”

Harry's hand was hot against my skin as he cradled the back of my head and leaned down to kiss me, his eyes glowing steady and bright. Heat trickled out of him, pressing against me as his tongue flitted over my lips, following the shape of my mouth before pressing harder, seeking entrance. I opened for him, resting my hands on his narrow hips, drawing him closer. 

His free hand slid down my side, cupped me through my slacks and I twitched, grew hard again as he manipulated me. My legs hit the edge of the table, but I didn't remember moving. Harry laughed, softly, and pulled away. He pressed me back, down, and I went, the clatter of dishes and a vase crashing through the room as we pushed them out of the way.

Harry's long fingers danced over my legs, a tease through the fabric and then there came the faint, acrid scent of burning cloth. My slacks dissolved into ash, a thin, fine coating. He knelt down and blew against it, his breath sending the tiny black-gray specks flying through the air, leaving me utterly bare from the waist down. 

The rough tip of one finger pressed gently behind my balls, and I jumped, a small sound escaping. Amusement flavored the air we breathed as Harry ran that finger down along the sensitive skin there and circled my opening, pressing just enough to feel the resistance. Another snap of fingers and there was a warm ceramic jar resting beside my hip. A lazy, indulgent smile ran across his features as Harry dipped his hand in the jar, coating his fingers well.

“It's all about the trust, isn't it, Marcone? Do you trust me? Do I trust you, little Baron?” His voice cycled between the rough earthen sound to his normal voice, to the one I associated with Lasciel. They were coming together, becoming one. 

He pressed forward with one finger, piercing and sweet for it's hint at fullness. I flexed, squeezed down on him briefly and then relaxed. Lasciel chuckled and he licked behind my knee, a surprising sensation. I found myself choking back a tiny yelp and hooked my leg over his shoulder, spreading myself wider. The second finger was welcome, and I pressed back into it, savored the slight burn. It had been a very long time...

We settled into it, the three of us, the room heating up until it was a sauna as Harry stretched me, slowly. Harry's hands were long, like the rest of him, his fingers strong and talented. I found myself gasping and trying to thrust back onto his hand, to take more as he spread me wider to take the third finger, and then the fourth. 

I could feel my orgasm coming, just over the edge, building slowly, fighting for that last little bit of sensation to bring it full force. I hissed, cursed Harry's name and fought against the restraining hand he had pressed against my hips, fingers spread wide with his thumb following the inner seam of my pelvis and thigh, so he could control me, but not touch my aching erection. 

Harry pulled his hand back, almost all the way out and I knew what was coming. Denied the control to take him in as I wanted, harder and faster than would be wise, I fumbled at my own shirt, tearing at it. It was hot, choking and oppressive on my skin. The air, no cooler but still a wonderful release, sent my skin tingling as the cloth fell away, and my trembling fingers stumbled across my chest, across the old, faded scars there to find my nipples, tight and erect. I rolled them, traced my palms across them in a sweat slick tease, and gave voice to a low, pained cry as Harry finally slid his hand forward. 

It was slow, slower than I wanted, and I fought him, digging my heel into his back, half trying to sit up so that I could grab at him before small hands, hands that were not there pressed into my shoulders and held me down. Lasciel. I opened my eyes though I couldn't remember closing them and thought I could see a face shimmering in the air, feminine and pleasant, amber eyes gleaming as she held me for him, whispered encouragement to the both of us.

He was inside me, huge and wonderful, and Harry twisted his hand, still so slowly, but it was enough now, more than enough, and I felt my orgasm, so long waiting begin to come over me. A sharp 'cluck' of the tongue, and then fingers were wrapped around the base of my penis, squeezing, cutting me off and I screamed in frustration and pleasure as my orgasm built, the feeling crashing over me and being denied release. 

A small mouth crushed itself against mine, swallowed my screams and drank them in. It hurt, wonderfully. 

The sound of my breathing filled the room as I shuddered and tried to pull myself together from the orgasm that wasn't. Movement, the heated brush of flesh against my own, and I focused to see Harry straddling me, one arm reaching back behind himself. A soft, slick sound reached my ears, and I moaned. He was stretching himself for me, with the same hand he'd just fucked me with. I bit the inside of my cheek to contain the lazy rush of heat that image sent through me. I wanted to stay hard, for this.

Harry smiled, all four eyes gleaming and giving the impression of pleasure. He lowered himself onto me, tight heat stabbing through me, up my spine and into my brain. I let my head fall back to the table, my hands found his hips, just resting there. Touching him. 

Muscles tensed around me, his legs flexing and he rose, then fell, every movement precise and controlled. Ghostly fingers touched my cheeks, my throat, my chest. A faint weight settled over me, over my face, and I could just make out the feeling of slender, smooth thighs to each side of my head. A rolling purr wrapped around me as I released Harry, my hands coming up to rest on flesh that wasn't real. But I could feel it beneath my hands, hot as the air around us, but solid. 

I lifted my head, swiped my tongue out over what should have been nothing, and encountered soft, familiar heat. Delicate folds of flesh parted for me, slick as any I'd ever touched. Harry whined as I did so, as I found the hard little pearl of ghost-flesh and sucked at it, pressed it with my tongue, my teeth. I kept hold of her hip with one hand and brought the other up into her, finding my way by touch. She clenched around me, just as Harry did, and I felt the brush of the back of his hand against my stomach.

I looked through the hazy form of Lasciel above me to Harry. He was staring, green eyes half closed, watching me. His hand a slow, twisting tease against himself, shining slick, drawing us all together, binding us in this one act. I ached, arched my hips as he came down, taking him harder than he had been taking himself at the same time I crooked my fingers inside of Lasciel, pinning her between my teeth. A scream shook the room and I heard the tinkle of glass shattering. Harry echoed her, shouting, and I felt him come, coating me with himself, marking me. I followed them, taking up every empty space inside of Harry, making him mine, finally.

~

It was a desert again, bright sun baking him, burning. 

Lasciel's eyes, the only thing he could see through the veil she wore smiled at him. Her robes, dark green and loose, blew in the breeze. The air was hot enough that even the breeze did nothing to cool them off.

Horses and people screamed, somewhere over one of the rises, a child's voice rising above all the other noise, high and terrible before it cut off.

“Do you want to see this one, or have you seen enough?”

“What is it?”

“Karbala. Politics and greed, disguised as religion.” She shrugged. “But then, that's often the way, no matter which faith we speak of.”

“I've seen enough. What do you want? Want to hunt up Nicodemus and get on the apocalypse wagon? Because I won't do that. I don't want the world to end.”

“Neither do I! Anduriel is angry, like a child. Daddy doesn't love him best any longer, so he's going to smash all the toys. And Nicodemus,” Her voice took on a mocking tone as she said his name. “Is still angry at being used by someone he thought was his friend, two millenia ago. They're both of them children, throwing tantrums.” She paused, thoughtful. “Though in his case, I suppose it could be a question of who betrayed whom. He did sell his friend for money...and that was before he knew that he was being used to bring about 'the plan'.” She even did the air quotes, which looked odd and I laughed, a little.

“Then what do you want?”

“I told you. God betrayed us. He betrayed his first born, who honored him above all else, for you. For humans. And then he abandoned you. We are both of us in the same boat! Betrayed by our creator! Unloved and cast aside. Your kind do terrible things but it's not your fault. It's his. Every crime, every death, every sin – his fault. Just as everything I have had to do since his betrayal can be laid at his feet.” She took my hands, her fingers gentle and cool. “I don't want to destroy you, my younger brothers and sisters. I want to help you.” Her eyes gleamed. “You need guidance. Leadership. Protection. That is what I offer, what I wish to give. And I need your help, Harry. My friend. We can save so many of them, if you will just work with me.” High, joyous shouts cut through the air from the battle we couldn't see, and I shuddered. “Will you help me? Help save them? Help me show him the error he made, turning his back on us?”

~

Harry stood on my balcony, the stonework completely clear of snow. I could see tiny trickles of water, where it had run off after he'd melted the snow clear.

“Harry?” He turned, his eyes deep brown and worried. 

“I said yes.”

“To what, Harry?”

“To Lasciel. To helping her. I-” He shook his head, and the air around him flexed. The air seemed to tear and huge, graceful wings formed out of fire beat the air behind him. Shades of white, red, yellow, gold, blue, green formed the feathers, delicate in appearance, for all that they seemed powerful and were perhaps a foot taller than Harry himself. They didn't put out any heat that I could feel, but the air around them shimmered with heat waves. “She wants to save humanity from itself. I said I'd help her.”

His eyes shifted to golden brown.

“Must I take you to the top of Willis Tower, show you the kingdoms of the world? We have the same goal, I believe, my Baron. Humanity will be what it will be. I seek only to mitigate the damage it causes to itself. To show it control. And discipline. Together, we can give it what it lacks. A focus. Leadership. Guidance. It is the same thing you have begun, only on a grander scale.”

“And what will we be, Lasciel, Harry? Saviors?”

She laughed, bells ringing.

“Hardly. They've had a few of those, and see how well it has served them.” She shook Harry's head. “No. We will be leaders. Rulers. And, when need be, necessary evils. It is our purpose, Baron.” Harry smiled, and the golden light went out of his eyes until it was just him again.

“We can save her, John.” My eyes met his in understanding. 

“Yes.”


End file.
